Holy Wars
by Rosethorn
Summary: Jessie Sloane has secrets, and one of them is going to get Harry Dresden killed if he's not careful. Dresden FilesDogma crossover. Rating for language. Spoilers up to Proven Guilty. Updated and finished April 24th.
1. Prologue

Holy Wars

Prologue

The rumor spreads, through whispers, wide eyes, and money changing hands. Independent fact checking sends several minions running to their masters, word and proof in hand, gleeful anticipation in their hearts.

"Pretty little thing," one such master observes dispassionately. "Why should I care?"

His minion tells him, and his eyes first widen, then narrow in satisfaction.

"Well done. Send out a team."

--

"Fetch this for me. Alive."

"But, mistress, I can bring it so much more easily dead."

"I understand. But I want it alive. If it comes to me dead..." This rasping, rustling voice does not need to expand on its threats. The minion gulps nervously.

"Yes, mistress. Alive."

--

"Shall I go and fetch her?"

This particular mistress is much more elegant than the first two, much more composed. She drums her manicured fingers upon the arm of her chair and considers.

"No. I can find her a different way. Bring me my representative."

Across the realms, her counterpart says much the same thing.

--

"This can't be true."

"I assure you, it is." The man bows. "I have checked it with three independent sources."

"Interesting. I trust you made it difficult for those sources to lie to you?"

"Difficult and unwise, sir." He bows again.

"If this is true, she could be a great asset to us." He rubs his chin. "Very well. Send out the word: if an appropriate opportunity should arise, they are to take her and bring her to me."

--

"She could save us." This pair is different. The woman, while nominally subservient to the man, clearly doesn't care. "She could heal us."

"She could." The man rests his forehead in his hands. "Or they could kill us to get at her."

"Would death be any worse than this?" she asks, soberly.

He makes his decision. "You're right. Get her."

--

The rumor spreads, by word of mouth and gasps of horror and delight. And as usual, I'm the very last person to know.


	2. A Holy Crusade

Holy Wars: Chapter One

A Holy Crusade

I never get good letters. Not even the ones that say Pay To The Order Of, because they invariably go straight to rent, or else down the gullets of myself, my dog, my cat, or my half-brother. This letter wasn't any different from the rest of them, starting with the fact that it was anonymous. Anonymous letters usually contain death threats.

No death threat in this one. Well, not an outright one, anyway.

"'Dear Mr. Dresden,'" I read, out loud, for the benefit of a smirking Thomas. His place was being fumigated, apparently, so I'd offered him floorspace for the time being. "'We understand that you bear a grudge against certain factions of the Black Court, and wish to inform you that three members of said factions will be lodging at...address, address...until two weeks hence. Should you wish to act upon this information, we suggest that you do so immediately. We enclose a map to further facilitate your movements. Yours etc. Interested Parties.' What the shit is this?"

"Someone's been reading too much Austen," was Thomas's opinion.

Sometimes you just need to ignore him. "Anonymous letters addressed to me aren't supposed to be helpful."

"If it makes you feel better, don't go." Thomas shrugged. "It's probably a trap."

"Of course it's a trap. Everything these days is a trap. I'm going in, you coming with?"

Thomas shrugged again, and grabbed a cup of coffee. "Might as well. No one's tried to kill me yet, and I cannot say my week is complete without it."

"Smartass." I collected my things; duster, staff, blasting rod, shield bracelet, paintball gun with holy water balloons. Armed for bear, or Black Court vampires. "Put a shirt on."

"Fine," Thomas said. He stretched, and for a moment strongly resembled one of those marble Greek statues of naked gods you see around. I really do love my half-brother, but sometimes he makes me want to sock him one just for being unfairly pretty. "We're going now?"

I shrugged. "Can you think of a better time? We know where they are, they presumably don't know we're coming and we have sunlight."  
He sighed, heavily. "Harry...no, never mind. What on earth are you hoping to gain from this, anyway?"

I don't think I knew, going in. Not that it mattered. I figured out really fast that the vampires had something they were trying to protect, and whatever it was, I wanted to find out.

Whatever. We wasted the vampires. By the time there weren't any more standing, Thomas was looking faintly ill.

"Sorry, Harry," he said. "I hate to leave but I have to get out of here. Whatever they're keeping is just...not affecting me well. I'll walk back."

I shrugged, let him go and stayed to find out what they were protecting, because odds are they were planning to use it to make trouble for yours truly and/or the White Council. Some great superweapon, maybe. I looked through the whole place.

There was no superweapon.

There was, however, a girl.

She had flattened herself against the wall, her eyes so wide they took up half her face. I couldn't tell much in the dim light except that she was skinny, young, dark-haired and clearly scared out of her wits. That, and the vamps had cuffed her to the wall.

"Um. Hi," I said.

She let out a breathless squeak and edged towards the corner, as far as she could get with the chain on her ankle.

"I'm not a vampire," I said.

She stared at me some more, then whispered, "Help me. Please."

Chivalrous Harry wanted to drop to his knees, pull out his sword and swear fealty. Disregarding the fact that I didn't actually have a sword, not with me at any rate, most of me agreed with him. The small cynical bit of me represented by my jerk subconscious said that the kid could be a plant, a trap, a spy, or some other form of danger that would result in said jerk becoming homeless/exsanguinated. I considered his suggestion for all of ten seconds before Chivalrous Harry won.

"Okay," I said. "There keys around? Or did one of the guys in the corridor have them?"

The kid nodded and shivered, rattling her leash. "O-one of the v-vampires. Sh-short with b-blonde hair."

I took a look around the bodies, then came back. "Red coat or blue?"

"R-red." She was shaking in earnest now. I could hear the rattle clear out in the corridor. Going into shock, probably.

I've been in shock enough myself to know what you have to do for someone suffering it. I got the chain off her ankle and wrapped her in my duster, then led her out to the Blue Beetle and got her lying down in the backseat with a teddy bear, a rejected chew-toy for Mouse I'd tossed in there a month back. I went back for a quick look around, but found nothing: the bodies had already dusted. It'd be a weird footnote in the police records, and I'd probably catch it from Murph when I told her about the incident, but hey.

There was nothing left to do here, so I drove home.

The kid wasn't shivering as much when I got her home, but her pupils were dilated and she refused to let go of the teddy bear. Ordinarily, EMTs tell you to stick them in a warm bath, but my shower heater had exploded the first time I tried it, so I'd disconnected it and haven't bothered with it since. Alas, this meant no hot water for the kid. She did seem to be coming out of it a little, so I left her more or less alone for the moment. I say more or less because Mouse took an immediate liking to her and sat down on her feet, and Mister took over her lap. Pets.

Thomas wasn't there yet, but that meant nothing It's a longer walk than it is a drive.

I picked up the first aid kit I keep in my bathroom and cruised on back over to the kid. "Hey," I said. "We haven't been introduced. I'm Harry Dresden."

"J-Jessie," she said, clinging to the teddy bear a little tighter. "Jessica Sloane."

"Nice to meet you, Jessie. You got any little cuts or scrapes I can take care of?" I hefted the first-aid kit. "I'm not a doctor, but I get hurt enough myself that I'm good at little things."

She sniffed, and held out one hand with a long scrape down it. I'd looked over her quickly at the lair just to make sure she didn't have any major injuries, but apart from this scrape and a couple of bruises, she seemed pretty much unhurt. The vamps must have wanted her alive and uninjured for some reason, and I intended to find out what that was.

"So," I asked, wrapping up the scrape. "You live around here? Can I call your parents?"

Jessie shook her head. "I live in McHenry," she said. "I don't know how I got here. And Momma's not home. I was staying with Liz."

McHenry? Sheesh. "Do you remember what happened before you got here?"

She shook her head again. "I came back to Liz's house after school and I heard somebody in the house, and then somebody hit me. Then I woke up where you found me."

The vamps had gone that far to get hold of her? She must be important. I took a deep breath. "Jessie," I said, as gently as I could, "do you know what the people who had you were?"

"Vampires," she said, immediately. "Mean ones."

Right, she'd referred to them as vampires back at the lair. Well, that solved one problem. "Right. Vampires. They were guarding you pretty fiercely. Do you have any idea why they might have wanted to get hold of you?"

Jessie looked me steadily in the eye for a moment, not long enough to trigger a soulgaze, before shaking her head for a third time. "No. I don't know." She dropped her eyes and hugged the teddy bear.

I was, at this point, pretty sure she was lying. "Are you sure? One hundred percent sure?"

She only nodded this time, didn't actually say anything. Yep. Lying.

"Jessie..."

Somebody outside threw all their weight against the door, and it protested all the way open. I swung around as Thomas came in, rubbing his shoulder. "Harry, we have got to get that damned thing fixed," he complained.

"We? Who's this we? It's my apartment. What took you so long?"

"Mysterious things." He looked over my shoulder. "Who is that girl and why did she just dive under your couch?"

_Under_ my... I turned around. Jessie had indeed gone under the couch, and taken Mister with her. Mouse stood between the couch and Thomas, his attitude half-puzzled but bound and determined to protect her. Which was damned odd. But what was odder was how anyone got _under_ my couch.

"Good question," I said, and groaning, got down on my knees to try and coax her out.


	3. A Penchant for the Dramatic

Holy Wars: Chapter Two

A Penchant for the Dramatic

Jessie flatly refused to come out while Thomas was in the room.

"No!" she yelled, from under the couch. "He's a _vampire!_"

"Well, yes," I said. "But he's not going to hurt you, kid. He's not that kind of vampire. Right, Thomas?"

He nodded. "No interest at this time. She's not old enough. Now, age her a decade or so, and maybe we'll talk."  
"That's nice. See, Jessie? He's not going to hurt you."

The couch remained unmoved. "He's a _vampire._ I'm not coming out."

I sighed, heavily, and propped my head up on my hands. I was stretched out full-length on the floor, all six-foot-seven of me, and Mouse was still taking up more floor space than I was. I wasn't sure if that meant I was eating too little, or that my dog was eating too much, but either way, it had to change. "Kid, look, it can't be comfortable under there. If I give you my word..."

"How do I know you won't turn me over to him?" the couch asked, suspiciously.

"Argh." I rolled over and lay flat on my back to roll my eyes at Thomas. "Because I won't. I promise I'll protect you, okay? Can you trust that?"

"No!" There was a pause, then she added, "He's a _vampire!"_

This was going in circles. I rolled back over. "Mister, can't you do something?"

My cat ignored me. I reached a hand under to see if I could maybe pull Jessie out, and got a growl from Mouse and a pawful of claws for my trouble.

I get no respect.

The door screeched again. I rolled over once more and found a very confused Karrin Murphy standing above me. "Harry? You need some help down there?"

"Kid under the couch, won't come out," I said, briefly. "What brings you by, Murph?"

She shrugged. "There was some kind of fight about three blocks over. Left bodies."

I sat up and looked up at Thomas. "That wasn't us, was it? We didn't leave bodies."

He shook his head. "No, and we were further away. Hello, Karrin."  
Murphy ignored him except for a brief little wave, concentrating a glare on me. "Us? Harry, have you been getting into trouble again? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I just got back..." I glanced at the clock. "Half an hour ago, and I was taking care of Jessie during then."

"Jessie?"

I hitched a thumb at the couch. "I got a letter this morning, said a bunch of Black Court vampires were holed up over by the university. I did try calling you, but nobody picked up. We went in, there were only about three, Thomas and I wasted them all. They were guarding her. Damned if I can figure out why."

"Hmm." Murphy got down on her knees beside me and peered under the couch. "Hello?"

There was a faint gasp, then a skinny little body came flying out from under the couch and straight into Murphy's arms. "Help me!" she whimpered. "Oh, God, help me!" Then she dissolved into tears.

Murphy looked up at me with a completely flabbergasted expression. I'm sure I looked just as confused. "Girlish optimism?" I said, hopefully.

I was still limping from the kick to the shins that little crack had earned me when Jessie finally quit crying. She still wouldn't go anywhere near Thomas, and insisted on having me, Mouse or Murphy between her and him at all times. Thomas finally threw up his hands, declared he knew when he wasn't wanted, and went back into the bedroom. Jessie relaxed a little bit, but her darting eyes and the tense line of her shoulders told me she still hadn't calmed down. Poor kid.

"So why did you come by, Murph?" I asked, limping back out of the kitchen with tea for everyone. Tea is an excellent cure-all, I've found. Lose your keys? Tea. Miss rent? Tea. Zombies, misguided people in cloaks and random vampires making your life a misery and threatening your city?

...kick ass, _then_ tea.

"There was a fight, and they left bodies," Murph said, from her seat on the couch next to Jessie. "Nonhuman bodies."

"Ah, my specialty," I said, dragging the word out into five syllables. "What kind of non-human bodies?"

She shrugged again. "I think vampires, probably Red Court from what you've told me. They were still there when I showed up, anyway, and that was a good three hours after they were discovered."  
I nodded. "Any clue as to the cause of the fight?"

Murphy looked down at Jessie, then up at me, a new soberness in her face. "There was this," she said, and handed me a folded paper. "Rowlings took it off one of the vampires and sneaked a photocopy out to me."

I took the paper and unfolded it. Jessie in happier times smiled up at me. "Hell's bells."

"Basically my reaction."

I really, really hate it when I'm out of the loop. Too much bad mojo has gone down on my watch for me to like it, and it was starting to look like more bad mojo, brought with if not caused by Jessie. Enough Mr. Nice Guy. "Jessie," I said, squatting down in front of her. "Earlier, when you said you didn't know why the vampires were after you? I think you lied to me."

Jessie retreated a little closer to Murphy and refused to look at me.

"Jessie," I said again, more urgently. "I need to know this. It's going to help me protect you. Why are the vampires after you?"

She nearly popped the head off the teddy bear, she was squeezing it so hard. "I..." she whispered. "I think it's because I'm the Last Scion."

"The what?" I asked.

Jessie abruptly jerked her head up, stared wide-eyed at the door behind me, and screamed. I whirled on one knee just in time to see the first thuggish type come through the door. Well, hell's bells.

"Thomas!" I yelped, diving for my staff. Murphy shoved Jessie down behind the couch and rolled, coming up with my .44 in a firing stance. Jesus. Murph's wrists were going to be sore as hell from the recoil, but then I guess she didn't have any other options.

Thomas burst in from the next bedroom and jumped on the back of a thug coming after me. I came up, staff in hand, and sent a blast of fire at a couple of them before whirling around and planting the base of my staff in the face of a third. Murphy fired and got a fourth in the knee, sending him howling to the ground and her stumbling backwards, off-balance.

"Ventas servitas!" I roared, blowing a bunch of them back. "Murph, grab Jessie, we gotta get out of here!"

Jessie popped out from behind the couch and into Murphy's arms; Murph pushed her back behind her while she was reloading. Thomas bashed his thug's head against the wall until the man stopped moving, then came to stand by me. The rest of the thugs, slightly more intelligent than their unconscious or wounded compatriots, hovered between us and the door, warily out of reach.

"They trying to hold us, you think?" I asked Thomas.

He nodded. "Almost certainly."

"One would wonder for who," I said.

"One would," Thomas replied. We stared at the thugs. They did not provide the name of their employers. It was worth a shot.

One of them made a feint towards Jessie and got a bullet in the hip for his pains. The rest remained where they were.

I made my decision. "Okay, guys," I said, "here's the deal. We have to get out. Which means we have to rush them."

Thomas gave me his Harry-you're-an-idiot look. Murphy clarified. "Harry," she said, "they're _right there._"

"So?" I asked. "You want I should telepathically communicate plans? Okay, here, I'm telepathically asking for a miracle right now."

Surprisingly, I got one. I guess someone was listening.

A sword hilt came swinging down onto a thug's head, then the sword itself swung into view and smacked another upside the head with its flat. Michael Joseph Patrick Carpenter, Knight of the Cross and my very good friend, made an especially dramatic entrance.

"Michael!" I said. "Good to see you, old buddy. Stopping by for a cuppa?"  
"Actually," he said, driving a thug within range of Murphy's uppercut-spiked-with-gun-grip, "I was on my way to the grocery and the route I usually use was backed up. I took a detour by your house."  
"The Almighty on the job again," I said, swinging my staff and getting a thug in the stomach. "Nice to see you anyway. Can we come chill at your house for a while?"  
"Depends." Michael took out another thug. "Who's we? Charity isn't overly fond of visitors."  
"Me, Murph, Thomas, and the kid," I said, and added, "Forzare!" The last thug hit my solid steel door and passed out. "Like, now would be good."  
He sheathed his sword and looked around at my apartment. "Seems that way. I suppose the grocery will have to wait."

"Thanks, Michael. This way, ladies and gents."

Michael stepped courteously aside for Thomas, then froze as Murphy and Jessie, clinging to Murph's hand, headed for the door. Jessie, seeing him, stopped, and nodded gravely.

Michael unsheathed _Amoracchius, _set it point down, dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My lady," he said.

"Not here," Jessie said. "Please."

"Michael?" I asked.

Michael rose, and resheathed his sword. "She's right, Harry. Not here."


	4. If There Isn't a Movie About It

Holy Wars: Chapter Three

If There Isn't A Movie About It...

The ride to Michael's house was completely devoid of explanations. This might be because Jessie, refusing to go far away from Michael and being just as stubborn about holding on to Murphy's hand, was in Michael's pickup. Thomas took Murphy's car, and I finished off our little caravan in the mighty Blue Beetle.

By the time I arrived at the Carpenter home, residence of Michael, his wife Charity, and his various children, one of whom was named after me (Harry Carpenter, can you imagine?) and one of whom, Molly, was my apprentice, everyone else was already inside. I came up to the porch and got yanked inside by Charity, who is, due to some previous misunderstandings, not my biggest fan. We've declared a truce since the events that led to Molly becoming my apprentice, though.

She looked utterly floored now, her eyes enormous. "Harry," she said, "how in the Lord's name did you come to be this girl's protector?"

"Long story," I said. "Which reminds me, I think I'm due a few explanations. Like what the hell's the Last Scion."

Charity shook her head at my choice of words, then dragged me into the living room. Murph and the others had made themselves comfortable for the long powwow I saw ahead of us. "He's here," Charity said, briefly, unnecessarily, and took her own seat next to Michael.

Left with the choice of standing awkwardly or sitting on the floor, I chose to shove Thomas over and take over half of the couch. "Right," I said. "Now that everyone's in the house, can I please get some explanations?"  
Michael sighed. "It's a little difficult to know where to begin."

"Start with the Last Scion."

Michael exchanged a startled glance with Charity. "Where would you have heard about the Last Scion?" he asked, carefully.

I jerked my head at Jessie. "She told me that's why the vampires wanted her, because she was the Last Scion." Apparently Jessie had enlightened Michael on the drive over as to where I'd picked her up, because he only nodded.

"The Last Scion," he began, and hesitated. "Has anyone here read the gospel of Thomas?"

Thomas raised his hand.

"Egomaniac," I said.

"It's not _my_ gospel," Thomas said, and smirked. "It's also known as the Infancy gospel."

"It tells the story of Christ's childhood," Michael said, nodding. "And while I don't agree with much of what it says, it does hold one undeniable truth; that Christ had siblings."

"Okay," I said. "Jesus had brothers and sisters. Great. What's the Last Scion?"

"We're getting there, Harry. Now, Christ was chaste his whole life, but his brothers and sisters were good Jews. They married, had children. It's widely held among those who know of their existence that they and their families were murdered when Christ was crucified." Michael shook his head, and added, "But at least one child survived. There is a living bloodline descended from Mary and Joseph."  
I started to get it. "Are you telling me that the Last Scion—that _Jessie_ is..."

"Currently? The last descendent of Christ, yes," Michael said. "Hence, she is the Last Scion."

...wow.

"Okay," I said. "Great. Fantastic. Why do the vampires want her?"

The outline of Jessie's shoulders sharpened. Michael sighed again. "Harry, were you paying attention to the news at all, about eleven years ago? I'm referring to that fuss in New Jersey."

"The Catholicism Wow! thing?" I asked. I had been paying attention, sort of, especially to the inexplicable footage of a massacre which apparently never happened, since everybody on that tape later turned up alive and well and severely confused.

Charity snorted. "Load of tripe, that was," she murmured.

Jessie spoke up. "There were a couple of angels that got kicked out of heaven," she said. "Mum never told me why. She said they were trying to get back into heaven, and if that had happened, then the whole universe would have stopped being."

I raised my eyebrows. "Stopped being? As in, ceased to exist?"

"Gone kablooey," Thomas supplied.

"Disappeared," added Murph. "Go on, Jessie."

"Anyway, they couldn't find God because somebody'd...trapped Him in a human body. I didn't really understand how," Jessie said. "So they called Momma in—she was the Last Scion then, 'cause I wasn't born. She had to go to New Jersey and find God and release Him so He could stop the angels, except God was a She or something, I dunno. And She did. And then God cleaned up, which is why there was everybody being confused about stuff that didn't happen."

Okay, this was a bit much for me. Faeries creating fake footage for a lark, sure, a massive practical joke, I could accept, but not God. "Are you telling me that God directly interacted with the world?" I asked. "It's my understanding He doesn't usually do that."

"_Harry,"_ Michael and Charity said simultaneously. They stopped, each politely waiting for the other to continue, and my dear, darling brother took the opportunity to jump in.

"Harry," Thomas drawled, "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

"Thomas?" I asked, in the sweetest tone I could manage. "Shut up."

"I know you have trouble with this, Harry," Michael said. "It's not an easy thing to grasp. But the Lord has our best interests at heart and He does intervene when He needs to. When there isn't any other choice."

"Well, that's just peachy," I said. "What's that got to do with why the vamps want Jessie?"

"She potentially has great power," Michael said. "The Last Scion carries certain holy powers that could possibly be perverted and used against God."

"So she's very powerful? Then why," I started, and was interrupted by a shriek from upstairs.

"_Mom!"_

Molly Carpenter, my apprentice, came thundering down the stairs. "Mom!" she screamed again. "Mom, there's a Warden outside!"

A Warden? I was on my feet right away.

"Margaret Katherine Amanda Carpenter, what have you done now?" Charity demanded, also jumping to her feet. She immediately transferred her glare to me. "What have you been teaching her?"

"I didn't do anything!" Molly wailed and I snapped, more or less in unison. "Both of you calm down," I added. "I don't think he's here for you."

He wasn't, as it happened.

When I opened the door, Donald Morgan's habitual scowl deepened. "Warden Dresden," he intoned, somehow managing to imply that the very words gave him a toothache, "your presence is required at an emergency meeting of the Senior Council."

"Morgan!" I said, and grabbed his hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "It's been too long, much too long! How've you been? How's the family?"

Morgan yanked his hand away and glared at me. He doesn't appreciate me properly. "Warden Dresden," he repeated, this time biting off the words, "your presence is required."

"Oh?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe. "And why would that be? I'm not Senior Council. Unless there's something you're not telling me."

"I don't know, Dresden. Are you coming, or must I drag you?"

"I haven't got my formal robes. I had to leave home in something of a hurry."

"I can imagine. They aren't necessary. Are you coming?"

I closed the door on him briefly and trotted back to the living room. "The Council summons," I said. "Got to go. Leave a note if you get chased out." Michael waved in acknowledgement and I trotted back out to the porch, gathering my staff on the way.

Morgan looked about ready to break down the door when I showed. I gave him my most charming smile, and waved my staff. "After you, Senior."


	5. Hang On a Minute

Holy Wars: Chapter Four

Hang On A Minute

As usual, the Council met in an abandoned building. Unusually, this one was a former office building. I suppose since there were only the seven members of the Senior Council, plus myself and Morgan, there was really no need for more space. A couple of Wardens guarded the door outside, but I had an invitation this time, so they more or less ignored me.

Morgan escorted me into the august presence of the Senior Council, then sulked off to one side and proceeded to glower at me. I ignored him. Sometimes that's all you can do.

Ebenezar McCoy, my former mentor, sat as far away from the Merlin as he could get, scowling. His expression lightened when I came in, and he gave me a wink. I returned it, a little hesitantly. Ebenezar and I had recently suffered a falling out, and we were only now making the tentative steps back towards the friendship we used to have. It seemed he was still on my side, though, whatever was coming.

I nodded to the other members I was on friendly terms with—Martha Liberty, Injun Joe. The Gatekeeper was absent, which didn't bode well for me. If I needed help, I could use another friendly face. Well, I say I'm on friendly terms with the Gatekeeper; what I mean is, he doesn't dislike me, and I don't dislike him. The Gatekeeper is not the most open and friendly of fellows.

The other three...well, we weren't on friendly terms. Ancient Mai didn't trust me, but she didn't mind me, far as I could tell. LaFortier actively disliked me, as did the man he habitually toadied to. The Merlin.

How can I describe the Merlin? We don't get along. He thinks I'm a dangerously loose cannon, and he frankly despises me for defending myself and Susan. I think he's a hidebound old man who can't adjust for circumstances. Make no mistake about it, though, I do have a healthy respect for him. He is, quite simply, the most powerful wizard on the planet. I have no doubt that if it came to a fight between me and him, he would completely kick my ass in the first minute. Or less.

But I digress.

"Warden Dresden," the Merlin said, smoothly. "Thank you for joining us."

Thank God, he was speaking in English. If they'd made me speak in Latin after the day I'd just had, I'm pretty sure I would have been obligated to shoot something.

I bowed, and responded, somewhat cautiously, "My pleasure, Merlin. I apologize for my dress. May I inquire as to the occasion for this meeting?"

"Straight to the heart of things. Tact is not a word in your vocabulary, Warden Dresden," Martha Liberty remarked, with a wry smile.

In response to her, I shrugged.

The Merlin shook his head. "Patience, Wizard Liberty," he said. "Warden Dresden is quite right in this case, as we have little time to lose."

Well, I'll be damned. The Merlin agreeing with me? A brief chill ran down my spine. Whatever this meeting was about, I knew right then it wasn't good.

"Warden Dresden," the Merlin continued. "I ask you now, in my capacity as head of this Council and protector of all wizards, to hand over the child in your possession."

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. "Jessie?" I asked, stunned. "You want _Jessie?"_

The Merlin looked to LaFortier, who sniffed and fussed with some papers. "Jessica Sloane," he said, reading off one of them. "Ten years old, native to McHenry, Illinois. Daughter of Bethany Sloane. Height, four point five feet, weight, seventy-five pounds, hair, black, eyes, brown..."

The Merlin cut him off. "Thank you, Wizard LaFortier. Is that the child you have in your possession?" All eyes turned to me.

I couldn't deny it. I didn't intend to deny it. "Yes," I said. "Only, she's not in my possession. She's under my protection, and I intend for her to stay there until she can go home."

Martha Liberty gained a slight smile; Ebenezar gave me a discreet thumbs-up. Injun Joe nodded approvingly. The rest of the Council—well.

"Warden Dresden," the Merlin said. His tone had dropped about twenty degrees. "Are you even aware of what that child is?"

"She's the Last Scion," I said. The Merlin exchanged a look with LaFortier, but neither of them spoke. "Which gives her some kind of holy powers, I don't know. I took her out of the Black Court's hands and I'm going to hang on to her until I find a place where she will be _safe."_

LaFortier looked highly offended. "Are you implying she will not be safe with us?"

Implying, no. Flat-out telling them.

"You can hardly say she will be safe," Ebenezar snapped. "Given your plans for her."

"Plans?" I looked at the Merlin and raised my eyebrow. "What plans are these?"

"Just give us the girl, Dresden," LaFortier snapped.

"Not until you tell me what you intend to do with her," I said, and crossed my arms across my chest. "It's my right as her guardian." This was actually true. An unwritten law of the Council stated that I, as Jessie's protector, was responsible for her, and responsibility went both ways.

The Merlin sighed, but he knew I was right. "We intend to use her as an aide in our ongoing war against the vampires." _Which you caused,_ hung unspoken in the air.

"Tell the full truth," Ebenezar cut in. "You want to put her in the front lines."

No one spoke for a long moment as Ebenezar's words sank in. Jessie? In the front lines? Finally, I spoke up.

"With all due respect, Merlin, Seniors... _fuck_ that."

"Are you saying you will not hand her over to our custody?" the Merlin asked, his voice dangerously low.

You bet your little booties I'm not, I thought. What I actually said was, "I believe I made that clear, yes."

"You have a duty, Warden Dresden," Ancient Mai said, her voice falling, a hissing whisper into an otherwise silent room. "To the Council, to your fellow wizards."

"I recognize that duty, Senior," I said. "I believe I have an overreaching duty to mankind, and that includes protecting children. And in case you've forgotten," I swept the Council with a glare, "Jessie is _ten._ She's a kid. You don't drag kids into adult wars."

"She is more than a child, Dresden, she is a powerful tool!" LaFortier roared. "You will hand her over to the Council right now, or suffer the consequences!"

"Over my dead body," Ebenezar said, subtle as a baseball bat. "I'm on Hoss's side. She's a kid, for Christ's sake."

"We do not involve children in war," Injun Joe added, firmly. "I too side with Warden Dresden."

Ancient Mai snorted. "You are all fools," she said. "Idealistic fools. We need the power. We need the child. Dresden must concede."

Martha Liberty pursed her lips, then shook her head. "I too must side with Dresden," she said. "Children should be children, no matter how powerful they have the potential to be." I couldn't have been the only one to hear the faint stress she laid on 'potential.'

"Three to three," the Merlin said, over a rising argument between Ebenezar and LaFortier, "although I was not aware we had opened the issue to a vote. Since I cast the Gatekeeper's vote in his absence, I find I must overrule my colleagues' objections, and..."

"Much as it pains me to do so," Morgan interrupted, "I side with Warden Dresden."

Ebenezar and LaFortier stopped dead in the middle of their argument, and all eyes turned to Morgan, mine included. The Merlin's expression resembled that of a man who has been abruptly smacked in the face with a wet haddock. I would have laughed, except I'm sure I wore the same expression. Morgan looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, but he nodded, as if to confirm his previous words.

"You...side with..." the Merlin began, and then stopped. Nice to know he can still be gobsmacked occasionally.

"Explain yourself!" LaFortier snapped. "Now!"

Morgan looked even more sour. "For once in his misbegotten life, Dresden is correct. We cannot expect to place a child in the front lines and receive any sort of benefit for it. The Wardens are stretched thin as it is. I do not have the men to guard a child while she fumbles her way through producing a miracle."

"You will not have to guard the child..." LaFortier began.

"Furthermore," Morgan continued, ignoring LaFortier, "I found Dresden at the home of a Knight of the Cross. Was the child there as well?"

It took me a minute to figure out he was talking to me. "Uh. Yes, yes she was."

"We must respect the autonomy of the Knights of the Cross," Morgan said. "They may yet prove to be powerful allies in the war, far more powerful than a mere child. Also..." he paused. "We owe a debt to this particular knight."

The Merlin shifted uncomfortably. Set in his ways he may be, but he is a man of honor. Michael had saved an entire campful of Wardens-in-training. The White Council owed him for those lives, and sparing Molly hadn't done much in the Merlin's mind towards erasing that debt, since technically he'd had to do it anyway.

Remembering that uncomfortable scene with Molly and the Wardens, I kept my mouth shut this time. I could only get Jessie into further trouble by talking out of turn.

Morgan stared down LaFortier, daring him to say something. The Merlin appeared deep in thought for a long, long moment, and finally, he spoke, reluctantly.

"Warden Dresden," he said. "As you are a Warden and therefore a representative of this Council, I will allow you to retain the child. _For now,"_ he added, sharply. "Do not allow her to fall into the hands of any other group. Keep her safe. If at some future date she should become undeniably useful, bring her to us."

"I was originally planning to do so," I said, deliberately leaving it open as to which part of his instructions I referred to. "And now, I think I'll be getting back to my duties, Seniors. Good evening."

I turned on my heel and stalked out.


	6. Has Everyone Gone Fuckin' Nuts?

Holy Wars: Chapter Five

Has Everyone Gone Fuckin' Nuts?

I got the hell out of Dodge as fast as I could. Of course, a racecar the Beetle ain't. I did get up to about sixty eventually.

I decided sometime during the drive that I needed to get back to my apartment and pick up some things, most notably my blasting rod and Bob. Just in case, you know? But when I pulled up outside my apartment, there was someone waiting for me.

Susan.

I drew in a sharp breath, and did my best to look calm and collected as I got out of the car. This was kind of spoiled by my height (6'7") and the height of my car's roof (not high enough). According to Thomas, watching me fold myself out of my car ought to be one of Chicago's great tourist attractions. Susan did have a tiny smile on her face when I got close enough to see her in the gathering twilight.

"Hi, Susan," I said, carefully.

"Hi, Harry," she said, equally carefully. Conversation stalled.

"Look," I said, eventually, "I'm in a bit of a hurry. I've got to get some things."

"Okay, I'll make it fast." Susan blinked for a moment, like she does when she's thinking, and said, "I need your help."

"With what?"

"There's a girl..."

"Oh, for the love of Christ." I slumped against the side of my building. "You want Jessie too, don't you? Who the hell doesn't?"

"Is that her name?" Susan asked. I stared at her. She shook her head, and continued. "She can help us, Harry. The whole Fellowship. You have no idea what she could do for us."

I straightened up. "No, Susan. I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

Susan grabbed my arm as I started to walk away. "Harry, wait. You don't understand."

"I understand this," I said. "Jessie is ten. She doesn't have mystic mumbo-jumbo or magic voodoo yet, because she's _ten_. Maybe when she's grown up, she can help you, but right now, she's a scared kid and she wants to go home, and that is the only endeavor I'm prepared to help her with. End of story."

"I guess that answers my question, then," said another quiet, female voice.

I jerked around, pulling my arm out of Susan's grasp. _"Elaine?"_

"Hello, Harry," she said.

I took a quick look around, just to make sure I hadn't accidentally stumbled onto a convention of my exes, looked back at Elaine, looked up at the sky. "I haven't got time for this," I said, to nobody in particular. "I really, really haven't got time for this."  
"Have we met?" Susan asked, in a tone I remembered from way, way back. We'd been out on one of our rare dates and she'd run into a reporter who was trying to horn in on one of her stories. For once, the spectacular end to our date hadn't been my fault.

Elaine looked her up and down, slow, measuring. "I don't think so," she answered. "But I know of you. You're Susan, right?"

I started edging away. Whatever was about to happen, it could not end well.

"Yes," Susan said. The tone was stronger. "I am. You must be Elaine."

Elaine nodded. "It's...interesting to finally meet you." She paced towards Susan, and the two of them began circling one another.

Quick, Harry, avert an argument. Or a fight.

"Ladies?" I asked. "Might I put in a quick word?"

"No," they said, simultaneously.

Well, fine.

"Look, I know why you're here," Susan said. "And you can't have her. We need her more."

"Our only intention," Elaine said, "is to protect the child. By any means necessary."

"If that's a threat..."

"Oh, no, I would never be so ill-mannered."

Susan snorted. "You want to take her away from her home and lock her up in a tower so you can maybe get a little help from her when she's come into her own. That's not ill-mannered of you?"

"Whereas you," Elaine shot back, "want to milk her for all she's worth to you, then throw away the husk when you can get no more use from her. I call that worse."

"Hold it!" I yelled. Both of them turned on me, but I got the first word in. "Nobody is taking Jessie _anywhere,_ do you hear me? Not either of you, not the White Council, not the vampires, _nobody._ She stays with me until she says different. And you can just take that and go...whistle."

"But we _need_ her," Susan began.

"Harry, please," Elaine started.

They stopped and turned to glare at each other again. And I took the opportunity to escape into my apartment.

Yeah, yeah, call me a coward. If you'd been there, you'd have done the same thing.

Not like it mattered any, because Mab was waiting.


	7. Aside From the Fine Print

Holy Wars: Chapter Six

Aside From the Fine Print

I didn't notice her at first. Preoccupied with making plans to get away from the impending fight outside, I climbed down into my workroom, fetched Bob, a shotgun for Thomas, and a few other things, and climbed back out to grab my blasting rod. And she was there, sitting on my couch.

I came to a dead stop, almost dropped Bob. Good thing I hadn't bothered to wake him up.

"Mister Dresden," she said.

"Mab," I said. "To what do I owe the pleasure? No, wait, let me guess...you want Jessie too."

She smiled, faintly. "You are astute as usual."

"That's nice. Let me cut to the chase. I'm not handing her over to anyone, not you, not the White Council, _no one._ That's all, folks." I headed for the door.

It slammed shut in front of me. "Wait just a minute, Mister Dresden," Mab said. "You haven't heard all I have to say."

I turned around and grabbed my blasting rod, shoving it into the bag. "So talk. And do it fast."

"You are correct in assuming that I want the child," she said, and rose from her seat. "I know that you have her in your possession, and I know you will not relinquish her without compensation."  
Goddammit, why did everybody keep talking about Jessie like she was some miracle drug I could just hand over? Did they just forget she was a kid? "So... discussion over?"

"Not in the least." Mab smiled, and that smile scared me. "I am prepared to offer you compensation, Wizard Dresden. The redemption of one of your two remaining favors and free passage through the realms of Winter."  
Whoa. Not a bad package.

The White Council probably would have handed her over in a heartbeat for free passage alone. And one of my favors...one step closer to being free of the fairy realm. It was tempting, I won't deny it.

I summoned up Jessie's terrified face and shook my head. "No deal."  
Mab arched an eyebrow. "Both favors," she said. "Free passage for yourself for the rest of your life and for the White Council for the duration of the war."

I stopped halfway to the door. Jesus Christ. That was just about the best offer she could have made, short of offering me her throne. She must really, really want to get hold of Jessie, and that didn't make sense.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why what?" Mab arched her other eyebrow. "Why do I want to bargain? It is far more civilized and certainly easier." She smiled, fiddled with a pencil. "I have other ways of persuasion if you want to resort to those."

"No," I said, remembering my letter opener. I'm in no hurry to repeat that incident. "I meant why Jessie? Why is she worth that much to you?"

"If I tell you, will you hand her over?"

"I'll consider it."

Mab looked me over for a long, hard moment, then nodded, seemingly to herself. "Very well. As a sign of good faith. You know what she is."

"The Last Scion can't be worth that much," I said. "Not to you. Faeries can't use God's power."  
Mab cocked her head to the side and stared at me some more. "No," she said, finally. "You don't know what she is. How is it, Mister Dresden, that you have held the girl for nearly a full day and yet you do not yet know what she is?"

"The Last Scion," I said, getting annoyed. "Related to Jesus Christ. Supposedly, it means she has some holy firepower..." But Mab was right. There wouldn't be this level of disturbance in the supernatural community unless Jessie had a whole lot more than angels on her side. I narrowed my eyes, and gave in. "All right. What is she?"

That strange smile crossed Mab's face again. "She is nothing less than the Messiah," she whispered. "The child of God, come to earth to redeem humanity's sins through her life. The counterpart to Jesus Christ."

I blinked. And stared.

That strange smile got wider. "You really had no idea, did you? Well, now that you know...if you give her to us, Mister Dresden, she will be well cared for, and protected until she reaches her full potential. You can end this battle before it begins—and there will be a battle. Don't assume that everyone who wants this child will simply sit back and allow you to keep control of her. But I, I am more than powerful enough to keep her safe throughout the fighting that must occur. Give her to us." She hesitated, then added, "You have my personal word that I will keep her safe. And our bargain will still hold, of course. You will benefit a great deal by doing so, and so will she."

I don't think any of what she said sunk in, except that one word. Messiah. The Messiah. Jessie...was the son of God. Daughter of God. _The_ God. The big man in the sky. Jessie.

"Mister Dresden?" Mab asked, faint amusement in her voice.

Both favors redeemed. I could be free of the faeries forever, and have free passage through Winter for both myself and the White Council. That would put me pretty high on the "nice" side of the list. All for one little girl.

And it wouldn't be so bad for that little girl, either. She'd be protected, better than I could do. Cared for. Mab had given her word, and faeries don't do that lightly.

It would be so easy. So very easy.

"No," I said. "She stays with me."

Mab flashed into anger as suddenly as she'd appeared. I backed up a pace or two. If I'd ever thought Mab was still sane, I knew now that had been wishful thinking.

"She belongs to us," Mab growled.

"Hey. You yourself said I could pick my favors," I said. "This one's got nothing in it for me." Well, that was a lie. But if Mab was offering that much, it was for damn sure there was a whole lot more in it for her. "So," I continued, "I respectfully decline to fulfill this favor. Now get the hell out of my apartment."

She rose and stalked towards me, somehow managing to tower over me despite my having at least six inches on her. "If you do not give me the girl," she hissed, "I will _take_ her. You have twelve hours." And then she vanished.

I took a deep breath, gave my heart a minute to slow down, and wiped the cold sweat off the back of my neck. Time to go.


	8. I'm Feeling A Little Exposed

Holy Wars: Chapter Seven

I'm Feeling a Little Exposed Here

Elaine and Susan were gone when I got outside. There was no sign of any scuffling, and I hadn't heard anything: whatever fighting had gone on hadn't been too bad. Of course, in my current fog I couldn't have detected my way out of a wet paper bag. It's a miracle I made it back to Michael's in one piece.

Halfway through the ride I nearly didn't notice a stopped truck in time. The subsequent hard brake and swerve threw Bob's little mesh sack against the dashboard, and he woke up complaining.

"Sheesh, Harry, what're you...oh, we're not in the lab. Where are we going and why can't you drive less like you?"

I ignored him. Actually, I didn't really register what he said for a while, and by that time it would have been awkward to answer.

"Harry," Bob repeated, sounding exasperated. "Where are we going?"

This one made it through the fog a little quicker than the last. "Michael's," I said.

"Why are we going to Michael's? Actually, no, scratch that. Why am _I_ going to Michael's? You got something special you want to teach your lovely apprentice?" Bob leered. Without, in fact, possessing eyes or eyebrows or any of the facial structure involved in leering. He's very good at that.

"Stop it," I said. "I've met the Messiah."

There was a long pause. Unusual in any conversation involving Bob. Finally, he said, "Uh. Messiah. The Messiah?"

"Yep," I said. _"The_ Messiah."

"As in Christ?"  
I shook my head. "No. Christa." For some reason this struck me as incredibly funny, and I began to giggle.

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa. Easy there, Dresden. You haven't cracked up on me, have you?"

I shook my head again. "No, Bob, I've just—shit!" A car had pulled out _right_ in front of me. I barely swerved in time. "No. I've just had a hell of a day. Saving the Savior and getting appointed her personal bodyguard."

"Whoa," Bob said again, and fell silent.

The conversation shook me out of my fog a little and let me get to thinking. Jessie was the Messiah. That skinny little dark-haired, big-eyed girl...was the Messiah. Come to earth to save mankind.

It did raise some questions. Like, how come she hadn't just fried the vampires or stricken them with leprosy or whatever it is Saviors do in self-defense. Mab had made some reference to "coming into her powers." Did that mean she didn't have the capability yet? Or that she just didn't know how to work them yet? Did Jesus had this kind of trouble? I made a mental note to ask Michael.

Also, the big question. Why the _hell_ hadn't she told me what she was?

She knew. I had no doubt whatsoever that she knew. This being the Last Scion—she probably really was the Last Scion. Jessie didn't seem the type to lie. Except by omission.

I growled at the steering wheel. She'd lied to me. She'd lied to me, and I'd just spent the evening getting the runaround from everyone and his aunt who thought they had a hook in me. And if she'd only told me what she was, this whole damn circus might have been avoided. I could have taken her to Michael or Father Forthill right away, let them deal with the whole thing. Or found someplace more secure than my ratty old apartment, anyway. She could have _trusted_ me.

But no. She'd lied to me. And now, I was stuck protecting her from every single baddie this side of suburbia.

Is it any surprise that by the time I pulled up to Michael's house, I was in a horrible mood?

Out of deference to Michael's sensibilities, I gave Bob strict instructions to stay in his mesh sack and stay _quiet,_, then grumbled and groused my way onto the porch. Molly met me at the door. "Harry?" she asked, a sort of nervous excitement tensing her voice. "Harry, what did they want?"

"The same damn thing everyone wants," I snarled, thumping in behind her. "Jessie."

Molly blinked at me. "Why her?"

"Because she's been keeping a little secret from all of us," I said, coming out onto the back porch where everyone had evidentially moved in my absence. "Haven't you, Jessie?"

The back porch looked out onto the Carpenters' back yard, complete with treehouse and pool...wait, pool? I blinked. That was new. Another thing to comment on. I resumed looking at Jessie.

She stood frozen on the pool deck, beside Murphy's deck chair and an abandoned inner tube. "I-I-I don't know w-what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." I crossed my arms. "I wish you'd been honest with me, because this is going to make life a hell of a lot more difficult."

"Harry!" Murphy snapped, standing up next to Jessie and laying a protective arm around her thin shoulders. "Don't yell at her."

"And don't swear," Michael added, coming up on her other side.

"I'm not yelling!" I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Look, I've just spent the last two hours getting accosted by every member of the supernatural community I've ever met, and they all want me to hand you over." I pointed at Jessie. "And I was thinking that's a little much for just the Last Scion."

Michael looked injured. "The Last Scion is extremely important."

I shook my head. "Not for this level of disturbance. Half the people after this kid can't use holy power and the other half have no reason to be going after it. So I asked Mab, when she showed up. And she told me what you really are, Jessie." I waited for this to sink in, then looked straight at her. "Do you want to tell them, or shall I?"

Jessie was trembling in earnest now, hugging her arms across her chest. "I t-told the t-truth! I'm the Last S-scion!"

"I have no doubt you are the Last Scion," I said. "But you're more then that, aren't you? You're the Messiah."

Dead silence struck the pool deck. With perfect, stage-show timing, a cricket began to chirp.

"Harry?" Murphy finally said. "Remember when you asked me to tell you if I'd thought you'd gone off the deep end?"

I thought a moment. "No."

"Well, you have."

"Godda—darnit!" I yelled, changing words mid-syllable when I caught Charity's glare. "I have just been chased around by the White Council, two ex-girlfriends representing half-vampires and Summer respectively, the Faerie Queen of Winter, Black Court vampires and thugs whose employers we have _yet_ to discover and all of _them_ seem to think that Jessie's the Messiah! I don't think we really have any room for disagreement here!"

"Stop yelling!" Murphy snapped, removing her arm and taking a couple steps forward. "She's ten years old, Harry. How can she possibly be the Messiah?"

"Well, since everyone's trying so damned hard to get hold of her, I'd say there's a pretty good chance she is!"

Murphy glared at me, then took a deep breath through her nose. "Okay. Stop it. Yelling at each other isn't going to solve anything. But my objection stands. She's _ten_, Harry. She can't be the Messiah."

"Um," Thomas said. It was all he needed to say.

We all swung around to look at Jessie, who, having lost the protection of Murphy's arm, had backed away from me. Who had, in fact, backed off the pool deck entirely, onto the pool.

Yes.

_Onto_ the pool.

She was standing on the glass-smooth surface, making not a ripple or a wave, about three feet away from the side of the pool.

I'm not sure about anyone else, but my mouth was sure hanging open.

I guess the others must have been displaying similar signs of amazement, because Jessie cocked her head to the side. Some of the fear dissipated from her face, and she asked, "What? What is it?"

Then she looked down.

About half a second later she was _in_ the pool, splashing and spluttering. I sprinted over and hauled her out, then pounded her on the back until she waved me away, still coughing. "I'm okay," she said, "I'm okay."

Everyone else was still standing like stone where they'd been, staring wide-eyed at Jessie. She looked around at all of them, then at me, her eyes enormous. "What was that?"


	9. I Say We Get Drunk

Holy Wars: Chapter Eight

I Say We Get Drunk

"This doesn't make _sense,_" Murphy said, for the ninth time.

"It's magic, Murph, nothing makes sense."

"It's faith, not magic," Michael corrected me. "Though in this case it's much the same thing."

Murph shook her head. "No, no, that isn't what I mean. I'm willing—well, I'm not, but for the sake of argument let's say I'm willing to accept that Jessie's the Messiah. How did the vampires get hold of her?"

"More importantly, how did they _keep_ hold of her?" I asked. "Shouldn't she be able to defend herself?"

Thomas, who up until now had been silently downing several glasses of water, spoke up. "According to the Infancy Gospel, Jesus had his powers more or less from birth. He did some pretty nasty things with them too."

Michael nodded. "Cursing children and trees. Giving a child that kind of power is probably a bad idea, which is why I don't think the Infancy Gospel is correct. I don't believe the Lord would make that kind of mistake."

"Wait," I said, a bunch of things coming together with a click. "I think I have it. Mab said something about Jessie 'coming into her powers.' What if she's not the Messiah yet?"

Murphy blinked. "Isn't it a kind of either/or deal?"

"Maybe in name," Michael said. I watched the light dawn in his face. "But not in truth. She's not the Messiah yet...and therefore she is vulnerable."

"She's got all this power, yeah, but for now it's only potential!" I exclaimed, getting much too excited, given the circumstances. "So everybody wants to get their hands on her so they can use that potential for one reason or another. Wow."

Thomas nodded slowly, and refilled his glass. "That makes a twisted kind of sense."

"Question," Murphy said again. "Why hasn't God done anything about it?"

"The Lord does not..." Michael began.

"Interfere directly, yes, I know. But I would think this is special circumstances. Jessie is His kid, after all, and technically the only chance for humanity."

I picked at a bit of loose varnish on the table. "Gah. Just when we seem to be getting somewhere..."

"He can't," Jessie said.

The four of us turned around and stared at her where she stood in the doorway, still clinging to that ratty old teddy bear. "What's that, sweetheart?" Michael asked, gently.

"He can't help me," Jessie said again, coming up to the table and toying with Thomas's glass. She batted it back and forth between her hands, a frown-line of concentration between her brows. "He's not allowed to."

We exchanged glances. "Is that so?" I asked, carefully.

She nodded. "He told me. When he told me I was the Messiah."

Thomas arched an eyebrow. "You spoke to God?"

Nobody can do scorn like a ten-year-old girl. _"No,_ to the Metatron," Jessie said. "Don't you know _anything?"_

Michael choked on thin air.

"Not everyone's familiar with Catholic dogma," Murphy said, grinning.

"But he _is_," Jessie said. "I heard him say he'd read the Infancy Gospel."

Thomas scowled. Being as full of brotherly love as I am, I was of course required to laugh at him. He flipped me off, then rescued his water glass and took a sip.

He promptly spat it out again.

"What..." Murphy jumped away from him and mopped at her sleeve. "Dammit, Thomas, I like this shirt!"

"It's vodka," Thomas said.

We stared at each other, then at Jessie, who looked terrified.

Eventually, I broke the silence. "Hey, kid," I said. "Could you do me a shot of whiskey?"

"Harry..." Michael began, sounding exasperated. He stopped, then said, "Actually, scratch that. Whiskey sounds like a good idea."


	10. Playtime Is Over

Holy Wars: Chapter Nine

Playtime is Over

There's something about children in danger that triggers us as a species.

I'm serious. Look at those bastards who excuse spousal abuse. Put a kid in the abused spouse's place, and suddenly people are advocating the death penalty. Tell a mother that her child might have been molested, and suddenly she's claiming there are vast satanic conspiracies distributing kiddie porn and killing animals in secret tunnels beneath preschools. Wrap a small child in grenades and send them into a camp of Marines, and watch them all get blown up rather than hurt the kid. You have to be pretty goddamn focused to go through children in order to get what you want.

Focused, or simply apathetic. Or maybe even not human.

I'm no different from most humans. Kids trigger protective urges for me, too. Combine that with my chivalric streak and the fact that Jessie looked so damn small and scared, huddled in a corner by herself with her eyes all big, and try and get something past me. Just _try_.

But I'd been through this, and they _had_ tried for her, and they'd damn near succeeded. I ran my hands through my hair.

Hell's bells. I had to think about this, and think _clearly._ Everybody wanted Jessie; that much was obvious. I personally knew of Summer Fae, Winter Fae, the Fellowship of St. Giles, vampires, Red _and_ Black, the White Council and whoever had hired the thugs that attacked us at my apartment. It was a safe bet the Denarians wanted to get hold of her, too, though I hadn't run into them yet.

The White Court was also curiously absent in this listing of my supernatural enemies. I got up and picked my way through the floor-covering, tangled mess of Carpenter kids, paper, crayons, and other assorted sundries. Good kids, all seven of 'em. I passed Murphy, catching a quick nap on the couch, and walked over to Thomas.

He sat by the window, staring moodily into a cup of coffee, looking less than inhumanly beautiful for once. Well, it'd been a wearing time for all of us, and everyone has their off-days. "Thomas," I said.

"Yeah?" He didn't look up, or gesture for me to sit, or make me feel invited in any way.

I sat down anyway. "Where's the White Court?" I asked. "I know you're not in on the loop anymore, but surely you've got some insight."

Thomas looked up now, frowning. "What do you mean, where's the White Court?" he asked.

"I mean why haven't they contacted me?" I linked my hands in my lap and stared at my thumbs, trying to ignore the feeling that I should be twiddling them. "Lara promised me she'd tell me if she was about to break our truce, and I know someone's spread the word that I'm protecting Jessie now, because a lot of people who shouldn't have known found out awfully fast. So why hasn't she contacted me?"  
My brother had gone back to staring at the steam rising from his coffee. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it's because she doesn't want Jessie."

I blinked. "Whoa, now, let's not get crazy."

"I'm serious, Harry," he said. "What would the White Court want with a Messiah? We're happy the way we are, mostly, so we don't want her to fix us. Holy power does nothing to us. And she's a kid. I can't speak for everyone, but all the Houses I've ever had contact with had rules about who you could and couldn't take from, and kids were strictly forbidden."

Well, that was a new one. "How strictly?" I asked, idly, putting together some other pieces in my head.

Thomas raised an ironical eyebrow. "Let's just say that if you feed off a child, you only do it once."

Right. "So the White Court really wouldn't have any interest in her," I said, thoughtfully. "Except... would anyone want to kill her just to get rid of the disturbance she's causing?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. That would be more trouble than it's worth, and if she really is the Messiah, nothing she does will affect us unless we choose to let it. Not to mention risking the wrath of God is not something anyone does lightly."

"She was bothering you a bit at the Black Court fight," I said, working through the questions I still had.

Thomas frowned. "Actually, I was thinking about that. I wonder if it isn't because she _was_ so frightened. You've seen those little miracles she keeps doing by accident. Maybe she was unconsciously trying to keep vampires away from her and I got caught in the backwash."

"Maybe." I shrugged. "It would explain why I didn't feel anything. Look, whatever. I don't think it matters. We need to get her somewhere safe until I can figure out how to dissuade people from going after her. Or until she gets these Messiah powers. Whichever comes first."

"Or until the Apocalypse," Thomas said, dryly. "Given your track record for mass destruction, that might come first."

"Bite me." I didn't hang around to hear his inevitable response to that; instead, I got up and looked for Jessie.

And looked.

And looked.

Finally I was forced to conclude that she simply wasn't there. I'm quite proud of myself for _not_ immediately running in circles, screaming in panic. Instead, I went over to Michael, keeping a benevolent eye on the last of his children still awake. "Have you seen Jessie?" I asked in an undertone, not wanting to worry anyone unduly if Charity had put her to bed or something.

He thought a bit, a worry-line forming between his eyebrows. "No, now that you mention it, not recently. Do you think she's..."

"Pulled Lydia's trick?" I asked, referring to a girl I'd once sent to Father Forthill for protection who'd run away immediately after. "I sure as hell hope not. Is there anywhere she could be hiding?"

"There are a few places we could look," he said. "Let me get Charity."

Together, the three of us canvassed the house and came to the inescapable conclusion that Jessie was no longer inside it. By the time we'd finished, I was cursing steadily under my breath. Some protector I'd turned out to be. God only knew how long she'd been gone before I noticed. God only knew who had her now.

I ran out the front door and looked frantically around, hoping against hope that she might still be in sight. There was no sign of her, and I wasn't quite stupid enough to call her name. Anything hanging around would hear and know she wasn't with me anymore. Jesus Christ. What the hell did she think she was doing?

I came back inside and was immediately the recipient of an accusing glance from Charity. I scowled, and said abruptly, "I'm going. I have to go and find her."

"I'll help," Michael said. "Let me just get my jacket."

"So will I," Charity said, glancing at her children. "I can take them over to St. Mary's. They'll be all right with Father Forthill."

I shook my head. "No. Look, you've got no idea who we're going up against here..."

"And you," Michael said, "have no earthly idea where she might be. You're going to need help."

"These people will _kill_ you," I said. "The only reason Jessie's alive is because she has more value breathing than she does as a corpse. Anyone could have her; faeries, vampires, Denarians. It took three of you Knights to defeat _one_ of them last time, remember?" And now, partially thanks to me, there were only two Knights of the Cross. Sanya hadn't evidenced himself yet, either, though it wouldn't surprise me if he did show up before all this was over. Knights of the Cross have a habit of appearing where they're needed.

Michael tightened his lips. "She is the Messiah, Harry. She is a _child._"

"You think I don't know that?" I demanded. "I'm the one who promised to protect her and I screwed up. I _will_ get her out, Michael. Whoever has her, wherever she is, I _will_ get her out. Even if I have to kamikaze to do it."

He opened his mouth, closed it again. Finally, he said, "I'm still going with you. You'll have a better chance of finding her and of saving her if you have help."

There was no arguing with him; to fight any more would just waste time, so I gave up. Michael knew what he was doing, and so did Charity. I left them to argue quietly over whether or not she should come along and went to wake up Murphy.

I almost didn't want to. I've dragged Murphy into a _lot_ of shit over the years, and several times she only came out alive by the skin of her teeth. Granted, she'd saved my life most of those times. I know precisely what I owe to her. Getting her into trouble of this magnitude was the last thing I wanted to do.

But I owed her more than my life, I owed her my respect. If I just left her, made the decision not to bring her along on my own, she would be pissed as hell and with good reason. Leaving her behind was tantamount to telling her she couldn't handle something like this. And I'd promised her.

I shook her shoulder. "Hey, Murph. Wakey wakey. We got problems."


	11. Let's Kill People

Holy Wars: Chapter Ten

Let's Kill People

Murph got on the horn to Stallings and told him the kid he was looking for was on the loose in Chicago, so to speak; I went out to search the pickup and see if Jessie had maybe left a hair or two I could use to track her. Looking for black hairs in pitch darkness against a dark grey seat while keeping an ear out for anyone who might be trying to kill you isn't fun, and I would not recommend it for beginners. I am a trained professional wizard, though, and a big-time private detective. I found one eventually.

I didn't have much time to set up my finding spell. It's a good thing I _never_ have much time to set up my finding spells. I'm well used to setting up slapdash spells and making them work through sheer force of power. It may have been a little more slapdash this time than usual, because, kid. Hell's bells.

Murphy came up behind me just as I finished. "Are we ready?" she asked. "Michael and Charity are just about finished, I think."  
"Yeah," I said. "She's gone southwest. This'll be fun. Most of Chicago is west of us."

She nodded. "Please tell me you've had a chance to refine it a little?" Her voice rose hopefully, but of course I hadn't.

"No. I'm sorry. You still got my .44?"

"Of course." She smiled crookedly, and turned to show me a bulge under her sweater at the small of her back. "Have you ever known me to let go of firepower?"

"Far be it from me to doubt you. Hang onto that. The rest of us are well-armed, I think." I looked over at Michael, who was strapping his sword to his side, and Thomas, who waggled the shotgun at me and gave me an ironic smile. Stupid vampires.

"So let's go," Murphy said, and marched towards the door.

I caught up to her before she'd gone more than a few steps, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Murph. Uh. Maybe you should stay behind."

She only looked at me, the flat, unfriendly stare Mister sometimes gives me when I've taken him to the vet or otherwise affronted his dignity.

"I'm serious," I said. "I've got a bad feeling about this."  
"Famous last words. Let's _go."_

I would wish later that I'd been more insistent. But there's no arguing with Murphy when she's made up her mind, and at the time, bad feeling notwithstanding, I didn't want to leave her behind. We make one hell of a team, she and I, and there was a scared little girl out there who needed all the help she could get if she was going to survive the night. I followed Murph out the door.

The pickup was pretty crowded with the four of us in it—wait, four? I made a quick headcount. "Where's Charity?"  
"She's not coming," Michael said, quietly. "She hasn't got any weapons, and I didn't... we decided it was better."

Ah. So if one or all of us got killed there was still someone left to take care of the Carpenter kids and various people's affairs. That sick feeling in my stomach intensified, my nerves winding up like bridge cables.

Michael drove, I navigated, mostly by saying, "Go straight, straight, straight, keep going, no wait wait left! LEFT! There. Straight..." My finding spell isn't terribly accurate when I'm relaxed, and with my nerves in the state they were it was a wonder it was working at all. But it _was_ working, and it was leading us away from Chicago proper, towards the suburbs, towards the forest preserves and their winding streams and ponds.

I remembered Jessie standing innocently on Michael's pool and wondered if she was going to try that again. But why _would_ she? Christ, why had she run in the first place?

Well, I could imagine why. She was probably thinking that we would be out of danger if she was away from us... and goddamnit, the really sad thing was that she was largely right. I, of course, had pissed off most of the people after her all on my own, but Murphy, Michael and his family, and Thomas to some extent probably _were_ all better off without Jessie.

But just because she was right didn't mean she was _right._

"Harry," Michael said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Where now?"  
I looked up, startled, and realized I'd lost the spell. Great, Dresden, way to freaking go. "Hang on a second," I said, concentrated, and got a sudden strong pull to the left. I turned my head, and said, "Park. That park over there. She's gotta be in there."  
My usual suspects piled out of the pickup, Michael conscientiously locking it behind us. I bit back a remark about not needing to bother, and looked at the sign; Palos Division. Shit. Chicago's biggest forest preserve, and time running short.

Murphy read my mind as usual. "Split up?" she asked.

"Do we have any choice?" I asked. "Okay, people, listen up. We're going to have to split up. If you find her, send up the Batsignal and we'll all meet back here and get the hell out of Dodge. If for some reason you can't get her back here, send up the Batsignal and flash it. Any questions?"

"Yes," Murphy said. "What Batsignal?"

"I'm glad you asked that!" I said, heartily. "It just so happens I've been working on a little spell. Here." I grabbed her wrist and slipped a plastic beaded bracelet on it. "See the bead with the sigil on it? To activate it, twist that bead around once. To flash it, twist the bead twice." I demonstrated, and the bracelet began to glow a steady, warm light the color of a sunny day. "It'll get brighter the closer it is to the originating bracelet."

Murph's eyebrows went up. "Cool. How do I turn it off?"

"You don't," I said. I laid a finger on the sigil bead and concentrated for a moment, and the bracelet's light went out. "I have to reset the spell. So don't fiddle with it, because if it gets set off accidentally there's going to be a lot of unhappy people here."

"Handy spell, little brother," Thomas said, taking one. "I'm off." He vanished under the trees.

Michael took another, nodded to me and Murph, and set off on his own.

I looked at Murph. She looked at me. "Good luck," I said.

"Don't die," she said.

"Yeah," I said, and we parted.

It didn't take long to find Jessie. I'd gone towards the east, and eventually all I had to do was follow the noise, the rising sounds of yells and clashing magics. As I got closer I even had to dodge some shrapnel. The Batsignal might not be necessary.

A minor battle rapidly becoming a major battle raged in a meadow, faeries, Red Court vampires, something snaky and even what looked to be a couple of Black Court vamps. I spent a brief moment hoping devoutly that those Blacks bit it mid-battle so I didn't have to get them later, then spun the sigil-bead on my bracelet twice, pulled out my blasting rod and readied my staff.

Showtime.

I charged into the battle, shield up, staff thwacking, and battled my way through a group of vampires and around a tussling knot of giant bumblebees and some kind of ice spirit. Jessie was cowering beside a clump of trees, her hands over her ears and her eyes squinched shut, and standing over her, looking like an avenging angel with a big sword and a determined expression was...Morgan?

Whoever I was expecting, it was _not_ him. I stood still for a heartbeat and just stared at him. For the record, it is a bad idea to stand still in the middle of a battlefield; if you must do it, stand off to the side somewhere and not smack in between a charging pair of faerie knights.

I dove forward and managed to roll with the fall, then bounced to my feet and took a stand in front of Jessie, beside Morgan. "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.

He gave me a look. "Protecting the child. Get to work, Dresden."

"But you..."

"_Later!"_ Morgan relieved an overly-curious bumblebee thing of its head and glared at me. "Just protect her!"  
He was right. I got to work.

Lucky for us, there wasn't that much work to do. The members of this little battle seemed more occupied fighting each other than making any serious attempt to get at Jessie. The quiet spots got longer and longer, and I was even beginning to entertain thoughts of sneaking Jessie out under a veil or something when she squeaked in fear and collided with the back of my legs.

Thomas melted out of the trees behind us as I turned around, and looked incredulously at the battlefield before him. "I swear, Harry," he said, "your talent for alienating people never ceases to amaze me."

"This is _not_ my fault," I snapped.

He grinned. "It always is, one way or another."  
"Dresden," Morgan said, a warning in his voice. I glanced at him; he was looking suspiciously at Thomas and keeping an eye on the battle at the same time. Must be something you learn in Warden school. "Who is this?"  
"Thomas," I said. "Thomas, this is Donald Morgan, the Commander of the Wardens. Play nice."  
"I intend to," he said. "Karrin and Michael should be here in a moment."  
"Now," Murph said, from right next to me. I jerked sideways in surprise, and she grinned. "Nice little party you got here."  
I scowled. "Oh, very funny. Why does everyone insist on—" I broke off as she yanked me hard to one side and shot a charging vampire square between the eyes. He went down like a felled tree.

"Well done," Morgan said, sounding mildly impressed.

"Thanks," she said. "You're who now?"

I made a second round of hasty introductions. Michael, who came charging up a moment later (he'd gone straight through rather than sneaking), needed none, of course. A Knight of the Cross is not easily forgotten, particularly when he's saved a campful of your best trainees.

I guess none of the people fighting had forgotten him (or Morgan) either, because for a time after that it was quiet. Jessie clung alternately to Murphy, Michael and me, with the old teddy bear stuck firmly beneath her other arm, and stopped shaking about halfway through her second round. The rest of us just huddled beneath the blanket of trees, waiting for someone to attack us, waiting for a route out to clear on the battlefield, just waiting.

It felt like forever. It was probably about twenty minutes.

"Hey," Thomas said, towards the end. "Looks like some of the vampires are getting reinforcements. They got shotguns, this lot."

"Shit," I said. My voice sounded tired in my _own_ ears. I'd been up for nearly eighteen hours at this point, and fighting more than usual for a day as me. I only hoped I was awake enough to get through this battle.

Just this battle, I told myself. Just this fight, and then you can collapse and sleep somewhere.

Michael frowned. "It looks like..." He broke off, then snatched his sword from its sheath and snapped, "Heads up!"

Jessie scrambled backwards, and the rest of us took position as the vampires hit us. It was maybe a minute and a half later that it happened.

I didn't see how it happened. I heard it, though; the bark of a gun, strange amid the noise of all that magic, and Jessie screaming, high and thin. I turned around.

Murphy was falling.

My mind stuttered to a stop, and I forgot about the battle raging behind me, about the vampires most likely ready to take off my head. All I saw was Murphy falling, blood all over her chest and spurting from her mouth and the shocked expression on her face.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry out. I didn't run to her. I wish I had, but I couldn't; couldn't do anything except stand there and watch her fall.


	12. Just That You Have Faith

Holy Wars: Chapter Eleven

Just That You Have Faith

I heard her hit the ground, even over the noise, and that snapped me out of the shock, enough to run to her, to crouch by her side and grab her wrist. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely find the artery. I shouldn't have bothered. There wasn't any pulse. There couldn't have been any pulse. She'd taken a hit right to the chest, point-blank range, it looked like. Murphy. Jesus, no.

Her eyes were still open. I closed them, very gently, and felt the abyss come roaring up to take me.

Jessie's screams had subsided into horrified sobs; now they rose suddenly into a shrill crescendo. "Harry, look _out!"_

I didn't look around. I didn't need to. I hit out with my staff and blanked.

I came back to myself some time later, and realized that I stood, blinking, in a clear space at the edge of the copse. Michael stood back against the trees, _Amoracchius_ out in a guard position; Jessie peered from behind his legs, her face paper-white and her eyes enormous with fear. Thomas and Morgan stood apart from me as well, varying degrees of awe on their faces.

"Murphy," I said, and let my legs gave out.

Well, not let. I didn't have any choice in it. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground hard. Something snapped, somewhere, but I only heard it. I was beyond feeling anything at this point.

I tried, I tried to get up and walk but my legs would not hold me. So I crawled, and pulled Murphy into my arms.

I think if I could have cried, it would have been easier. But all my tears seemed frozen up inside my throat somewhere, so that I couldn't speak, could barely breathe. I held her against my shoulder—she was limp, so still, I'd never seen her go completely still, not ever—and stared into the distance, and realized that I couldn't feel anything at all.

"Harry." Thomas's voice barely made it through the roaring in my ears. "Harry. You have to get up. We have to get out."  
I should be grieving. I should be angry. I should be afraid. I couldn't feel any of it.

"_Dresden!"_ Morgan this time. "Get up!"  
I felt so empty. Like I'd been drained. Inside my head, I could faintly hear my jerk subconscious and Lasciel screaming at me to get up get up _get up_ but it didn't matter. Maybe they had what I couldn't feel anymore.

Oh, God, Murphy.

"Harry?" Jessie, her voice soft and choked on a sob. A tiny stir of feeling coiled up my spine and prodded me into speech.

"Go on," I said. I didn't even recognize my own voice. "Get out of here. You have time."

"Harry," she said again, then knelt beside me, and brushed Murphy's hair out of her face. The golden blonde strands were sticky with blood.

Jessie. Hell's bells. She was only ten years old, she shouldn't see this. I made a move to push her away, but she dodged me, and she laid her hands on Murphy's chest and began to recite the Lord's Prayer.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name..."

In my mind, Lasciel went abruptly silent. Someone took a step towards us, then moved away. The sounds of fighting moved closer.

"...and deliver us from evil, amen," Jessie said, and the world stopped.

I looked up at Jessie, and realized she was glowing with a gentle golden light, a light that concentrated around her hands and her hair in a sort of specious halo. She met my eyes for a second, her expression suddenly preternaturally calm, then turned her eyes back down to Murphy and said, "Rise up, you who have fallen, rise up, for I am here, I am come. Rise up, for you are healed, rise up, for you are forgiven. Rise up!" Her voice rose until it rang out in a triumphant shout.

A shock wave radiated from her small body, passing through me and Michael, Morgan and Thomas, and slammed into the armies like a brick wall. People fell over, dropped to their knees, grasped their heads. Damage undid itself, corpses stood on shaky legs, limbs reunited themselves with their owners. Blood returned from whence it came.

And in my arms, Murphy took a deep, shuddering breath, and began to cough.

Jessie stood up and stumbled a step away from me, grinning. "I did it," she whispered. "I did it."

I clutched Murphy to me and boggled. She had been dead. Less than a heartbeat ago, she'd had a sizeable hole through her chest, a wound no one could have survived. But now...

Now she was breathing evenly, her face turned in towards my shoulder and her body relaxed in sleep, not death. My hands were leaving bloody prints on her now-clean shirt...though Jessie had forgotten to repair the ragged hole in it, and rather more of Murphy was on display than I was used to seeing. I took off my duster and draped it over her chest, and hugged her again. She had been _dead._

"What the fuck is this shit?"

I couldn't exactly move very fast with Murphy draped across my lap. She might have been healed, but she sure wasn't conscious, and I wasn't about to just dump her on the ground. So it might have been a little while longer than I'd liked before I managed get her settled and turned around enough to see two men, one tall and skinny with long, stringy blonde hair, and another short and chubby with a brown beard. The short one nodded to me; Blondy was too busy critiquing the battlefield.

"Jesus, man, you sure fucked their shit up," he was saying, apparently to Morgan. "I mean, dude! We just came fuckin' five states over and shit, lookin' for the kid," he waved at Jessie, who cocked her head and watched him with the expression of a toddler cataloguing every swear word for better future reference, "and we get here and what do we find? Fuck! A fuckin' battlefield! Couldn't you keep the fuckin' shit from going down in front of the kid?"

"One would think," Morgan said, in a tone that could have frozen Lake Michigan, "that you would watch your language in front of said child."

"Watch my fuckin' language? Shit, man!" That was apparently all he felt needed to be said.

"_You_ haven't changed, I see," said a new voice, dry, British and unamused. I twisted again, saw a thin, pale man with dark hair. He looked at Jessie, and his tone and expression warmed noticeably. "Well done. Your Father and mother are very pleased."

Jessie brightened. "Are they? I did my best, but I wasn't sure...did I fix it right?"

"You did," the man said, and smiled at her. "Come here, munchkin. I've got something for you."

"Hold it," I snapped, getting to my feet and bringing out my blasting rod. "I don't even know who you are, bucko. What makes you think I'm just going to let..." My voice died under the withering looks both the man and Jessie were giving me.

"I am," the man said, adopting much the same tone Morgan had used earlier, "the Metatron, Herald of the Almighty and Voice of the One True God." The capitals were audible.

I coughed and tried to get my menacing voice back. "Prove it."

"Fine," the man said, and abruptly acquired a set of wings.

He shook his shoulders and looked irritably at me. "Proof enough for you?"

I nodded, my mouth hanging open, and sat back down.

He looked back at Jessie, and rolled his eyes, a strangely human expression from an angel. "Your mother did the same thing. Humans, all alike."

She giggled, picked up the teddy bear again and skipped over to him. "I thought you appeared in a pillar of flame?"

"I got tired of having my suits drenched in fire extinguisher," the man—the angel—said, dryly. He sobered a bit then. "Listen, munchkin, I'm sorry about all this."

Jessie tipped her head to the side and looked up at him thoughtfully. "Well, you did what you could. Um. Could you make them go away?"  
The Metatron looked over his shoulder at the stumbling crowd of armies. Some of them looked ready to start the battle up again, as soon as they stopped feeling queasy. "Right. Thank you for reminding me." He took a deep breath, and somehow the _shape_ of him changed, becoming darker, more menacing. His voice took on extra harmonics, extra layers, became deeper, became worthy of a capital letter itself. In the Voice, he said, "Clear off, you lot."

They cleared off. I nearly did myself. You don't mess with a Voice like that.

The Metatron shook himself again, made the wings vanish, and shrank back to the thin, pale man he'd been before. "Where to now?" he asked Jessie.

She giggled again. "Home, Jeeves!" she said, with a teasing imperiousness that made her seem much younger than ten years.

"Yes, milady," he said, indulgently, and before I could blink we were all standing in someone's living room.


	13. A Pure Soul

Holy Wars: Chapter Twelve

A Pure Soul

Jessie relaxed immediately, and I suddenly realized just how tense she'd been throughout the entire adventure, to make _that_ much of a difference. "Thank you," she told the Metatron.

Michael, looking rather shell-shocked, sat in a window seat, and Thomas sprawled in a wing chair, massaging his temples. I sat in an identical chair across the room from my brother and next to the couch Murphy lay on, my duster still draped across her chest. Blondy and his silent sidekick sprawled on the floor. Of the six of us, only Morgan was still on his feet, and looking rather disgruntled.

Good thing we were all out of the way. A heartbeat after Jessie spoke, a dark-haired woman burst into the room with total disregard for anyone or anything in her way. _"Jessie!"_ she shouted.

"Momma!" Jessie hurled her skinny little self at the woman, teddy bear flying, and burst into tears.

The woman—Momma Sloane, as I began mentally calling her—knelt and hugged Jessie fiercely, crying a little bit herself. "Oh, Jessie, where have you been? What happened?"

Jessie told her. She went on for some time.

"...and then she was ­_shot_ but I fixed it and then Metatron showed up and everything was better but I was so _scared,_ Momma, I thought they were going to _kill_ me!" Jessie finished, on a high-pitched wail. She did not start sobbing again, for which favor I was grateful. Little girls can really belt it when they're crying.

Her mother hugged her again, then stood up, keeping an arm around Jessie's shoulders, and sent an equal-opportunity glare around the room, her eyes coming to rest on the Metatron. "Who's this?" she demanded. "Look, I know you, I trust you, but _them_..."

"Bethany, please," the Metatron said, wearily. "It has been a long day for everyone concerned."

I'll say.

Jessie wriggled her way out of her mother's arms and ran over to me. "This is Mr. Harry Dresden, Momma," she said, taking my hand. "He's nice. He saved me from the vampires."

The dark-haired woman fixed me with a look worthy of Murphy and nodded, rather ungraciously. "Thank you."

I nodded back, and Jessie darted about, introducing people. It was amazing how much energy she had, now that she was in a place she considered safe. I glanced again at her mother and revised that inner statement. _Was_ safe. I wouldn't count on anything to get past Bethany Sloane.

Except maybe a faerie queen. I raised my hand, tentatively.

"Excuse me," I began. "I hate to break up the reunion, but there's a _lot_ of people after Jessie, and they aren't going to stop just because an angel showed up. No offense, mate."  
"None taken," the Metatron said. His voice was dry enough to make me want a glass of water. "The situation has been dealt with. Thank you for your concern."  
I blinked. "I think you're underestimating their persistence. Mab, for example..."

He shook his head, and somehow managed to cut me off with that simple gesture. "No, you don't understand. She is untouchable now. She has come into her own, acquired her powers, and grown into her true calling. Do you need it spelled out any more?"

"Stop it, that's not nice," Jessie said, wandering over to stand by me. "He means I'm the Messiah now. Really, I mean, not just sort of."

"That doesn't make sense," I said.

The Metatron rolled his eyes. "Proof," he muttered. "Bloody humans not having faith and wanting silly _proof_..."

"Excuse me for wanting to make sure she's _safe,_" I snapped.

"_Stop_ it," Jessie repeated, and touched my face. "I can prove it, if you want."

I looked down at her, and said nothing. What was there to say? She must have read my worry in my face, though, because she nodded. "Okay. The one in your head," she said. "Your... your guest-boarder."  
That was an interesting way of describing Lasciel. I'd have to remember it. "What about her?" I asked, carefully.

"Not a her," Jessie said, shaking her head. "It pretends to be a woman because you are vulnerable to that. Do you want it there?"

_What?_ "Of _course_ not!" I yelped. "I want her gone! Or one of these days I'm really going to go around the bend and..."

Jessie ignored my blathering, calmly took off my glove and put her hand over Lasicel's sigil.

And suddenly the presence was gone.

I mean _gone_. For the first time in years, there was nobody in my head but me.

I stopped mid-rant and gaped at her. She smiled angelically. "I can do that now, you know," she told me. "I can do lots of things now. Not that I _will._ But I can."

"Because you're the Messiah," I breathed. I looked down at her small, sweet face, remembered her glowing faintly and that strange, calm expression, looked at Murph, peacefully asleep, looked at my hands and shirt, still covered with blood, felt the space in my head where Lasciel's ghost had been. And for just a moment, I _believed._

There was a long moment of silence before Bethany Sloane turned to the Metatron and snapped, "All right, what did you do to my daughter?"  
He only smiled, and shrugged.

Jessie giggled, back to a ten-year-old girl again. "Oh, _Momma._ I'm fine! Really. We're all fine."

"Good." She propped her hands on her hips and delivered an impartial glare around the room. "Then everyone go. Now. It's the middle of the night and I want my house back, thank you."

"How?" Morgan asked, in his default tone around me, ie, annoyed. "I don't have the slightest idea where I am or any sort of transportation back."  
The Metatron gave him a sardonic look. "You ask me," he said, "politely."

"Ah. Of course. Ask a man of unknown origin and alliegance to transport me to my home when he doesn't even know where it is." Um, wow. Tones of perfect politeness, not a hint of sarcasm in face or voice, and still Morgan managed to mock the angel. I almost wanted lessons.

The Metatron's sardonic look only increased. "I do in fact know where you live, and I will not say precisely where that is because I gather you'd prefer it was kept secret. Not that I can blame you."

I thought I saw Morgan's shoulders go a touch stiff, but he didn't react otherwise. "Such a miraculous conclusion," he said. "I am amazed you managed to figure that out."

"I do know everything." The angel gestured theatrically at the door, then raised an eyebrow at Morgan. "After you."

Morgan gave him a flat look, then walked through the door, and vanished.

"Oh," Jessie said, in a soft voice. "I didn't get to say goodbye."

I started half out of my seat. "Just a minute..."

"I sent him home," the Metatron said, in the tone of one who has said something far too many times before. "And if you will all be good enough to proceed through the doorway, it will do the same to you."

"That sounds familiar," Bethany murmured.

He glanced at her, then bestowed a warmer look on Jessie. "Little one, if you wish to say farewell, do so now. I think your mother wishes to be alone."

Jessie nodded, then ran to Michael and threw her arms around him. She whispered something in his ear; he laughed, and returned the hug. "Goodbye, Jessica Sloane," he said, solemnly. "It is an honor and a pleasure."

"Goodbye, Michael Carpenter, Knight of the Cross," she said, and smiled.

He walked through the door and was gone.

She repeated her performance with Thomas, though he did not laugh at whatever she said in his ear. Instead he arched an eyebrow at her, and shook his head. "I don't think so, my lady."

Jessie shrugged. "Believe what you want, but it's still true. I'm sorry I was scared."

"Oh, that's all right, I'm used to it."  
"It doesn't make it fair."

Thomas looked skeptical, but did not object.

Blondie and his sidekick got chivvied out the door with scarcely a how-d'you-do. I got the feeling Momma Sloane didn't like them very much, or at least didn't want them and their foul mouths around Jessie. Not that I really blamed her.

Jessie stood over Murphy a moment, her eyes distant, and then came over to me.

"It wasn't your fault," she told me, in a voice for my ears alone. "You couldn't have stopped it, or changed it. It had to happen."

No need to ask what _it_ was. "I should have," I said, my voice just as quiet as hers. "I promised her mother. I promised _her."_

"Forgive yourself," Jessie said, insistently. "You have to learn how to do that. Forgive yourself, and whatever you do, don't say no."  
I opened my mouth, looked at her, and shut it. I got the feeling that was all the answer I was getting.

"I'll try," I said, instead. "I can't promise anything. But I'll try."

"Good." She paused, and added, "She won't remember, you know. I took the memory away from her. No one should know what it is to die."

My voice faltered, and for a moment all I could do was look at Murph. Finally, I cleared my throat. "Thank you."  
"Thank _you."_ She gave me a brilliant smile, then followed her mother into the depths of the house.


	14. I Do Believe In This

Holy Wars: Chapter Thirteen

I Do Believe In This

In the end, the Metatron had to take me home seperately. I wanted to keep Murphy with me for a little while, and in any case she would have to be carried, and the door wouldn't understand which home to go to. So I picked up Murphy and he walked all three of us through the door and to my apartment.

"That really is a neat spell," I said, and it was; no interim time, just one moment in Jessie's house, through the door, and then my apartment. "I'd like to learn it."

"You can't," the Metatron said. "It's an angelic ability. Now put her to bed so you can ask me those questions I sense boiling up in your little head."

I wasn't quite sure if I'd been insulted or not, so I let that remark pass without comment and did as he said instead, kicking the door shut behind me, then stood looking down at Murphy for a moment.

She looked so small.

I should get rid of that shirt she was wearing. I couldn't tell her she'd died, and how was I supposed to explain the hole in it? Explaining the disappearance would be easier than the hole; just tell her I'd bled all over it and thrown it out. And how was I supposed to explain the gap in her memory? A knock on the head, I guess. Easy enough. She got knocked out, I got shot or something, Jessie Messiah'd and healed it, the blood on her shirt was mine.

I'd promised I wouldn't lie to her. But I couldn't tell the truth about something like this.

The Metatron could wait for a moment. I carefully tugged her shirt off over her head, then manhandled her into one of my t-shirts, trying not to look the whole time and memorizing it anyway. She'd kill me if she knew what I was thinking. I just said a brief prayer of thanks that her bra was unstained and whole, snugged the covers tight beneath her chin, and went back out to the living room.

At first, I thought the Metatron had left; then I found him across the room, bent over and having a staring contest with Mister. The cat was winning. I cleared my throat.

"Took you long enough," the angel said, without looking around. "Ask."

"Who sent me that letter?" I asked. "The anonymous one. The one that led me to Jessie."

The Metatron stood upright and gave me a faintly impressed look. "Ah. How interesting. I had expected something existential."

I waited.

He shook his head. "Very well. I did. Or rather, I had a muse inspire someone to write it and slip it through your door. One of your upstairs neighbors. And before you ask, no, we did not spread the word of Jessica's powers. The silly child told her mother over the phone, and a demon overheard, then went about selling the information to everyone it could find." The Metatron looked briefly thoughtful. "It must have made quite a tidy profit off that bit of information. Not that it's useful anymore."  
Two questions answered, several to go. "Fair enough," I said. "Who hired those thugs?"

A nonplussed expression crossed the Metatron's face. "What thugs?"

"The ones who attacked my apartment," I said. "I'm just glad they didn't trash the place."

He cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if trying to remember something. Or perhaps asking someone higher. "The Order of the Blackened Denarii. They are weakened and frightened and dared not risk crossing the Messiah without having every one of them there, so they sent those who could not be injured by her power. I trust that is a satisfactory answer."  
I shrugged. "Enough. They won't come after me, will they?"

"I've no idea. Should they choose to do that, it's your problem."  
"Gee, thanks," I muttered. "And Murphy."  
The Metatron's expression softened a bit. "She will live, and thrive. Trust your Messiah, Mr. Dresden. Jessica may not have the fine control to repair something like a shirt, but Karrin Murphy is totally unharmed."

I closed my eyes. "I see."

There was a pause, and then the Metatron said, sounding a tad uncomfortable, "Well, if that is all, I'll be going."  
"Hey!" I took two steps forward and grabbed his sleeve. "Hey, wait a minute, one more question. Why me?"  
He looked back at me, arched one thin, black eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"  
"Why me?" I demanded. "Why did you pick me to look after her? Why not Michael, or Sanya? Someone already in your good books."  
The Metatron smiled. "Mr. Dresden," he intoned, "God has a plan. Jessica Sloane needed you, it is true. But you needed her just as much. Good night."  
And he vanished.

The first thought that crossed my mind—_That bastard, he could've done that all along_—was irrelevant. The second—_And just what the hell did he mean by that?_—was rather more so, but angels are tough to explain. Bob might be able to give me some insight...

That thought rewound and wrote itself in blazing letters across my brain. "Shit, Bob!" I exclaimed, threw the trapdoor open and damn near hurdled the stairs.

Bob sat comfortably in his normal place, totally ignoring me.

"Bob?" I asked, panting a little. Hey, you try going from zero to sixty down a flight of stairs.

"What?" he asked, without the orange glow coming on. "I'm sleeping."

I took a deep breath and sank down to sit on my stool. "Sorry. Thought you got left behind. There were...complications."  
Bob's eyelights flickered on immediately, and he watched me with something like concern. Still no idea how he manages to do that with a face that's just bone. "I don't like that tone, Harry. What do you mean complications?" He paused, and added, "It got something to do with that blood?"

I looked him straight in his nonexistent eyes. "It's Murphy's," I said, and told him the rest of the story from there.

Mercifully, he didn't interrupt. This was not a story I wanted to backtrack or explain. Hell, it wasn't a story I wanted to tell twice.

"...so she's upstairs," I finished.

Bob's eyelights shrank and grew, and I got the unnerving impression that he'd just waggled his eyebrows. "In your _bed."_

I sighed. "Not one of your better efforts. Yes, in my bed. I'll be sleeping on the couch."  
"You're no fun." He paused again, then said, "Harry, are you okay?"  
"I don't know. I think I will be, I just..." I looked up the stairs again.

Bob was still watching me when I turned back towards him. "Only, you said you believed." His voice rose a bit, interrogatively.  
I shook my head. "Not in God, not exactly. I know there's something up there, I just don't _believe_."

"There's a Messiah," Bob pointed out. "And you just said you talked to an angel."

"Look, just because I've seen an angel doesn't mean I believe in God. It's too...too immediate. It'd be a bit like believing in the mailman."

"The original quote is postman," Bob said.

I raised an eyebrow at him, and I actually have eyebrows to raise, so it was a bit less astonishing. "You've been reading Pratchett? Not your usual fare."

"I have to refresh my endless supply of wisecracks somehow, you know." The orange lights in his eyesockets narrowed. "Harry, seriously. Answer the question."

"Technically, you didn't ask one," I said. Bob snorted, and I added, quickly, "But all right. No, I don't believe in God. But there's a living woman upstairs that says some miracles are true." I hesitated a minute.

"So..." Bob prompted.

I looked him in the eyesockets. "I don't believe in God," I repeated. "I do believe in Jessie. Someday she's going to work miracles and I just hope I'm still around to see it." I stretched, heard my neck crack, and got off the stool, heading up the stairs. "Good night, Bob."

"Good night, Harry," Bob said, and with a sly grin in his voice, added, "Jessie bless you."  
I paused at the top of the stairs. "You know what, Bob? I think she did."

--------

Final Notes

Harry Dresden and his usual suspects belong to Jim Butcher, as does the world this is set in. The Metatron, Bethany Sloane, Jay and Silent Bob, and the concept of the Last Scion belong to Kevin Smith and View Askew. Jessica Sloane belongs to the ages and authors of fanfiction everywhere, though she was gracious enough to start with me. The Voice was very kindly lent to me by Terry Pratchett's Death.

I want to thank GG Crono, for his endless support, courage, and patience with my bitching, Dark Puck for suggesting several turns of plot, all the aforementioned authors and creators for letting me play in their sandboxes and you, my reviewers, for encouragement and enjoying this piece.

The most special and heartfelt of thanks to the ever-lovely, ever-patient Prisceille for sharing her time and Dresden Files expertise to beta this monster (emphasis on _patience_, folks. This took well over a year to write from conception to finishing touches). She stuck with me the whole way, through weird phrasings and canon-breaking chapters; it's entirely due to her that it's finished at all. She deserves about eight million more thanks than I can give her, so you, dear reader, are going to have to help me out.

Thank you.

Rosethorn/TigerKat

PS: There are a couple of Easter eggs in this story: a Monty Python reference in chapter 9, and a Firefly reference in chapter 10 (chapters 10 and 11 as numbered by FFN). You get cookies for the latter and a pony for the former.


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